


Set Fire to the Rain

by misaffection



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22436608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: The Doctor has been searching for the Master. What happens if he finds her first?Spoilers for Fugitive of the Judoon. Inspired by Adele's Set Fire to the Rain, but not a songfic.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 187





	Set Fire to the Rain

Ardentis was one of those cities which presented a glossy front to its visitors, while hiding a grimy underneath. The tall, white skyscrapers which lined the coral-coloured beach were the respectable side and where the Doctor's fam were sequestered for what she'd promised one hundred precent was a proper holiday. No twisted humanity and no bombs. No Judoon.

"I'm just going for a wander."

Graham gave her a look. "Uh huh."

The Doctor sighed. She shouldn't have told them what she really did when she left them alone. At least Yaz and Ryan were otherwise occupied and it was only Graham she had to deal with.

"It's not like that," she lied.

Now it was his turn to sigh. He regarded her steadily, though not without sympathy, even if there was no understanding. "You know, if you ever need someone to talk to…"

She grimaced more than smiled. "Yeah, I know."

"Do you?" he asked.

"Of course."

Even though she knew he meant well, talking wasn't ever going to happen and she couldn't meet his eyes. She didn't want to see the hurt she knew she'd see there. And maybe he could help. He'd lost his wife. He knew grief. Just not on the same scale.

She walked away. Walked from the bright lights and into the dark. There was a tingle on her skin. The smell of ozone in the air. Clouds gathered on the horizon. A storm was coming. She grinned, wild and fierce, and she headed towards it. The buildings were squat now, grey replaced the white. There were rough bars and dodgy casinos and figures dressed in black who watched her. She felt the hunger of their stares and tossed her head. She'd faced Daleks and Cybermen – the shadows didn't frighten her.

Her mind stretched out, searching for the contact she craved. She didn't find it and her knees buckled at the emotions that swept over her. Anger. Pain. Grief. Bone-deep loneliness. She pulled her hood over her head and walked on at a rapid pace. She needed to be out of the city, away from buildings that stood and streets that weren't on fire.

There was a bar on the outskirts and the neon drew her like a moth. She ought to go back, not carry on down this road of self-destruction, but she'd reached her breaking point. She wanted to numb her hearts and mind. To let gravity take her. Tomorrow she'd rise and fight on. Tonight she had no strength left.

Lights strung from post to post in a garden that was would have been surprisingly green were it not for the gathering dark and her own inattention. She sat on a hard wooden bench and cradled the tankard in her hands. The concoction tasted bitter-sweet and it pooled warm in her stomach. Tendrils wound through her body, dulling the sharp edges of her emotions and turning her thoughts to cotton wool. She downed another mouthful, eager to embrace the nothingness.

It took a lot for a Time Lord to lose track of time, but she managed it. The sky was dark with night and storm clouds, broken occasionally by jagged, purple lightning. The first drops made darker spots on the surface of the bench. She pushed at one with a finger. Something teased at the back of her mind. She ignored it and finished off her drink.

"Should I get you another, or are you done sinking into oblivion?"

Her spine turned to ice, shock sobering her somewhat. She looked up but it was too dark to see his face. His arms were folded across his chest and that, along with the tone of his voice, gave her cause to belief he disapproved.

Like he had the bloody right.

"You shut me out," she said, the realisation like a stab to her soul.

"If someone doesn't wish to be found, one _might_ think not to keep looking for them, but sensibility was never your strong point." He sat down across from her and snapped his fingers. A man came over and placed two drinks on the bench. The Master watched him go. "So what do you know?"

The Doctor grabbed her drink. She really didn't want to think about it, yet she could feel the weight of his gaze. And she had wanted answers. It seemed payment for those was to offer her own.

"There another of me. One I don't remember. That doesn't remember me."

"Hm."

She looked at him, or at least as much as she could in the gloom. "What's going on?"

"Lies. Lies on lies." He considered for a moment. "Lies on lies on lies."

"That's not helpful."

He laughed, short and hollow. "If you want my help, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

The temptation to throw something at him overtook her. The tankard left her grip before she could think better of it. Her aim was dreadful, but he still ended up wearing the remains of her drink. She tensed, while a not-too-small part of her mourned the loss of the alcohol.

"Feel better?" he asked, caustically.

"Not particularly."

Thunder clapped, ad she jumped. The slight fall of rain became a downpour in a heartbeat. It was cold and hard. She was soaked through in seconds and she snorted at the karma of it. Not that he was any drier.

"Perhaps we should go inside," the Master noted.

She thought of the bar's clientele and the TCE. "Perhaps not."

"I am not staying out in the rain." He rose, came round the bench and then put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on."

She tried to shrug away, but his fingers dug into her flesh. It was likely the only warning she'd get, and there were far too many innocent people he could take her disobedience out on. There was a staircase in the space between outside and the main part of the bar. The Master trudged up them like he'd every right. She sighed and followed.

They ended up in a bedroom. She stared at the bed and then at him, but he was too busy getting out of his sodden coat to notice. It was a sensible move, she supposed. Her coat stuck to her arms as she struggled out of it. She hung it on the hook on the back of the door. That was as far as she was going.

The Doctor turned to find the Master right there. He'd shaved off the beard, though that had been some days ago since his cheeks were shadowed with stubble. His eyes gazed into hers, pinning her in place. He put a hand to her cheek, long fingers at her temple. Drunk and exhausted, she'd not the strength to push him away. Instead, she let it all bleed out.

Her sobs took her to her knees. She heaped at his feet, simply unable to remain standing. He made a soft noise and joined her on the floor. He pushed her wet hair off her face, then cradled her chilled cheeks in his warm hands.

"I'm not sorry," he said, voice quiet. "You're beginning to see why, but not all of it. Not yet."

"Something is coming for me." She'd told her fam the same thing, sure of the dread sensation. "Time is in flux."

"I know, love. That wasn't me."

She blinked back tears and focused on his face. She touched him, tentative at first but when he neither pulled away or told her to stop, she gained confidence.

_Contact._

If he was playing a game, then he'd win. He always did. Yet for the moment, he played fair and let her in. She'd not gone deep last time. Just skimmed the surface because she'd been afraid of the darkness. Further in, she saw the flames which had engulfed Gallifrey, felt the guilt and pain. His sense of betrayal and the ensuing fury. There was a flicker of something else aimed at her. Bitter affection and the same craving that drove her.

Whatever else was going on, why there was another of herself, unknown and unknowing, she and him were the last. Perhaps not of their kind, but of themselves. Of a long-lasting emenity and longer friendship. As if they were the eye of the storm.

Rain hammered on the roof. Thunder shook the building. Lightning brought the room into blinks of sharp focus. She felt cold, frozen even. The only warmth was the Master's palms against her face. The touch of his mind on hers. She formed his name in her head. Not the appellation he'd chosen, but the one he'd been given.

He pulled her in. She buried her face in the curve of his neck and closed her eyes. The beat of his hearts echoed her own. The sound grounded her in the now. Whatever her future – or her past – held, it couldn't touch her for the moment. He would not allow it.

"You might want to reconsider this," he murmured.

"Maybe I don't want to." It sounded petulant even to her ears, but she didn't care. "Why should _I_ always be the responsible one?"

"I lie, love. You know that."

The Doctor lifted her head. She thumbed his cheek and allowed herself a smile. "Then don't say anything."

He huffed a laugh, but his eyes darkened. She read his intent and broadcast her acceptance. He threaded his fingers into her hair and held her. Submission had never been her strong point, but she let him lead. It was what he was good at.

"Master," she breathed, and leaned into him.

"Bloody hell."

She laughed. Then his mouth was on hers and her amusement washed away in the flood of heat and need. He was gentler than she'd expected. Took it slower than she wanted. She gave a soft moan and pushed her frustration out. He tutted inside her mind and she sensed him grin. He could be such a bastard at times.

There was little warmth to the room, but her skin was already chilled so she felt no colder for the loss of her clothing. He pulled her up and she followed. They'd not stopped touching. Barely paused their kisses except to breathe. Her hearts and soul were raw and the Master was the balm. It was crazy, but things had ceased making sense days ago. Possibly a lifetime ago. She no longer knew who she was. Her one constant was him.

She hoped.

"As far as I know," he murmured. "Maybe we're all just figments of our own imaginations."

"Stories," she replied at the spark of memory. "In the end."

He paused and looked down at her, one hand in her hair. The other was on her naked arse and she tried not to grin at that. Failed. His lips twitched. Their minds were too well joined for him to have missed the shift in her thinking.

"Maybe we should both stop talking."

They didn't need words. The echoes of his pleasure as she traced the lines of his body with her hands and mouth made little explosions in her mind. She knew he felt the same thing as he mapped her out. They learned what affected each other the most and kept doing it. Time and the universe held still. Or it moved on but his body moved over hers, then down, and perhaps she was simply too distracted to notice.

Her name whispered through her mind in his voice. The anger and hate bled away from his thoughts and the darkness cleared, a sunbeam shafting through a cloud. She bathed in the light and warmth, absorbing all that she could, because she knew it wouldn't last. Too much lay between them.

Yet there was a side to him she'd never seen. Never experienced. That he revealed this to her now was sobering, though fortunately not too much. There was a lot to be said for strong alcohol. And the talent of his hands. Oh, and the way he could kiss. A shiver ran down her spine and she arched. She dug her nails into the broad plain of his shoulders. He grunted and thrust hard. Pleasure raced along her nerves like the lightning which lit the room.

Her skin was slick with sweat and rain. It was no longer cold but heated from friction, while her insides boiled. She imagined the ripples spreading beyond the room, causing the storm to frizzle and spark. A memory of Gallifrey flashed through her mind.

"Don't," the Master urged. "Stay with me."

She pulled him down and held on tight, trying to blot out the encrouching reality with the feel of him. "Make me." She felt the curve of his smile against her neck. "Oh shut up."

He laughed then. She couldn't help but giggle. She loosened her grip and he found her mouth with his. Her giggles subsided immediately. She'd challenged him, and the one thing he would always do was meet such. Surpass it. She hadn't realised how much her new body could feel. What he could make it do.

His name was a scream in the darkness as she came undone. A hand smoothed her hair. He murmured her name out loud, but his mind held something more. Something deeper.

The storm passed. The Doctor rose from the bed and donned her still-wet clothing. Part of her wanted more than anything to stay. The rest knew such a thing was impossible. She glanced at the bed as she tugged on her coat. The Master lay on his back, naked and unashamed. She felt no guilt at what they'd done either, though she had no intention of telling anyone it had happened.

"What is the Timeless Child?" she asked, hand on the doorknob.

He shrugged. "I have no idea."

"You're lying."

"I do that."

She stared at the ceiling and prayed to gods she didn't believe in for strength. "So?"

"I honestly don't know." He hitched up in the bed and held out a hand. "Come here and I'll show you."

She laughed. "Oh, I'm sure you would. I have to go."

His humour faded. "I know."

"I suppose the next time that we meet–"

"Ah!" He lifted a finger. "Don't, love. Let it be."

She smiled. "All right." Then, on reflection added, "Love."

The glitter in his eyes was the last thing she saw as she shut the door. She leaned against it, feeling the afterglow and pleasant ache of her body. Its first time. Was it terrible that she hoped it wouldn't be the last?

The Doctor shoved that thought to the back of her mind, glad that her contact with the Master was already broken. She pushed off the door and strode back down the stairs. It took every effort not to look back. Not to listen if he followed. 

She trudged through the streets of Ardentis, avoiding the puddles. The lights of the tourist section drew her on. She kept her gaze fixed on them and not whom she'd left behind. Naked in bed.

"Bloody hell," she groused, echoing his earlier statement. She didn't regret the evening, but it might not have been the best idea she'd ever had. Across all thirteen regenerations. Plus whatever possibility Ruth represented.

She stomped back to the rooms she shared with her fam. Graham looked up from a book, his gaze sliding over her appearance. She was leaving wet patches on the immacualte tiles.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Of course. I just got caught in the storm."

An eyebrow lifted and disbelief filled his eyes. "You ought to get changed," he said eventually, his voice quiet. "Don't want you catching a cold."

"Yeah, I'll get on that," she replied, and headed towards her room.

"And Doc?" he called after her. She stopped and looked back. He met her eyes. "If he ever hurts you, I'll have whatever passes for his balls in a vise."

**Author's Note:**

> [Set Fire to the Rain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ri7-vnrJD3k), for those unfamiliar with the song.


End file.
